


Not Thinking About It

by intrikate88



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Cancer, Gen, Introspection, Season/Series 04, Season/Series 04 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrikate88/pseuds/intrikate88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka barely even thinks about the fact she has cancer. (She thinks about it all the time. She thinks about why she didn't just get her ovaries removed as soon as the doctor told her they were toxic to her, and she doesn't have an answer to that, so she thinks about how she's Not Thinking About It.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Thinking About It

When the anesthesiologist asks, "Is there anyone out in the waiting room that you want us to tell that you're heading into surgery now?" she says no, she didn't bring anyone to be there for her. The surgery was a last-minute thing, she adds, nobody was free to come in, it’ll be fine. They give her a room to change in and she folds her clothes neatly and puts them in the bag they gave her, along with her sunglasses and her Secret Service badge. The hospital gown doesn’t quite cover her, and the room is cold, and she holds the edges of the oddly shaped robe together as if even her insides won’t be on display soon.

 

She has to wait so long for the surgery to begin, and then she’s on a bed being rolled to the room where they’ll put her under anesthesia and suddenly it feels like she’s had no time at all to ready herself, like she walked out of the Warehouse just a minute ago. Like she first heard her diagnosis only yesterday. An assistant places a clear mask over her nose and mouth. “I want you to take a deep breath and count backwards from ten for me out loud, honey, okay?” she asks, and Myka nods. It’s not okay, but it’s necessary, and she knew what she was doing when she signed the consent to treat form. She hasn’t had time to deal with this, this surgery and how afterwards she’ll be either a cancer victim or a cancer survivor but she’ll never just be Myka again, and now she’s running out of seconds.

 

“Ten,” she says, wondering which one Pete will see her as when she wakes up.

 

_(Myka barely even thinks about the fact she has cancer. (She thinks about it all the time. She thinks about why she didn't just get her ovaries removed as soon as the doctor told her they were toxic to her, and she doesn't have an answer to that, so she thinks about how she's Not Thinking About It.) She tells Pete because she has to, because... he's Pete, and it was only a matter of time until he found out, and she was so nerve-wracked that she'd have to be strong for him when she could barely be strong for herself that the shock nearly broke her when he just stood still and took her in his arms and let her lean on him awhile. He's so much of a younger brother to her that she forgets, sometimes, that he's bigger than her in so many ways.)_

 

“Nine,” she says, and wonders if she’ll ever wake up.

 

_(She puts up with Steve's knowing looks because she's grateful that he understands without her having to say a thing. Yes, he knows she's not saying something, and yes, he knows that it's big, and yes, he knows that it's hers to share when she's ready and not a minute before. It's awful, too, because he died. He died and it was awful and he was alone, and every time she looks at him she can't help but think she's going to inflict the same devastation on her team (her family). A metronome could restart a heart, but it won't restart complete organ failure.)_

 

“Eight,” she says, the thought springing into her mind that she should just stop counting, just tell them she changed her mind and she’s going back to work and whatever happens, happens.

 

_(Of course, Pete has to be awful and tell her to go figure out treatment options (she doesn't want to think about her hair falling out because of radiation and chemotherapy. She doesn't want to think about premature menopause and the chemical warfare on her body of hormone therapy) and really that's the biggest problem. Him telling her what to do, her oncologist telling her what to do, some organs in her abdomen she never found a use for before telling her what to do, and stubbornly, desperately ignoring all of it is the only say Myka gets in the matter.)_

 

“Seven,” she says, because she’s sort of at peace with this now, or maybe she’s just accepted ever since she made her farewell video for the Warehouse she’s been okay knowing that any day could be her last. Maybe this is just that day, coming in a way that she would have never expected.

 

_(The Warehouse had given her a good life; it had also, she had imagined, offered her a good death. No lingering in hospice, no slow loss of her body functions; when her time came, it would be because the world needed saving and she chose to give her life to save it. It would be an end that mattered and helped someone, and it would be one where she could die at peace knowing that she had done the right thing. She would be a book with a conclusion, instead of a forgotten manuscript with an unsatisfying ending. But she wouldn't, if the cancer got to her first.)_

 

“Six,” she says, and she’s not going to die, because her family is all at the Warehouse dealing with Paracelsus and they’ll need her back there as quickly as possible, ready with her steady hands and mind.

 

_(So when Claudia is debronzed, she doesn't hug Pete and cry, she doesn't cry, she schedules her surgery and she goes without any crying, because Pete's going to lose it if he thinks she's leaving for good and she needs to make sure the Warehouse has him right then. She lets herself shed a few tears as she walks away, where Pete can't see them, and she doesn't call Helena on the drive to the hospital, because there is absolutely nothing she can say and get through to the end of the sentence (I might die-- I was wondering if-- I know I'm not part of your new life but right now I'm alone and can you-- There's no one I can talk to here without us all losing it and getting distracted from the Warehouse disaster of the week so Helena--)_

 

_Myka is alone, her eyes are dry, and she is here for surgery and come back and help save the Warehouse while on painkillers, and then go back and fix any stitches that popped open while she should have been on bedrest, and everything and everybody will be fine. Artie will make cookies. Claudia will smack her somewhere inessential and then hug her and she'll complain about stitches and it'll be a relief, but not a big deal. Pete will make up excuses why Myka shouldn't have more cookies than him. Steve will stand back and smile, just smile, because he's zen like that, and because Claudia is making the fuss so he won't. She'll be better in a few weeks, she'll complain about being stuck in the Warehouse while everyone goes on missions, she'll be there when her sister has the baby, she will be fine. She will be fine, because her family needs her to be fine and there for them, and she doesn't know how to do anything but be there for people. She doesn't know how to be the one on bed rest being fussed over.)_

 

“Fi-“ she starts to say, but then she’s unconscious, and doesn’t make it all the way down to one.


End file.
